Captured
by Tetsuhana
Summary: Sherlock Holmes can't remember what happened exactly, but now he is at the mercy of his archenemy. No, not Mycroft. The consulting criminal, James Moriarty. Sherlock Holmes/Jim Moriarty. T rating didn't last long. RATED M
1. Chapter 1

Sherlock felt the cool metal of the knife pressed against his skin. He couldn't see, but he could guess who it was; Moriarty. The back of his blindfold was cut and light filled his vision. For a few seconds he was blinking away spots until vision cleared and he saw the consulting criminal in front of him.

"Hello, sexy," Jim said with a playful smirk. The smaller man's fingers grazed over Sherlock's scarf as he looked him over. Sherlock tried to remember what had led up to this moment but his memories were surprisingly fuzzy. He remembered going to a pub for a drink and a chat with an informant. After that… everything was fuzzy. With his superior knowledge Sherlock filled in the blanks with what he assumed had happened. He had been drugged, of that he was certain, then evidently he had been brought here, and had been expertly tied to a chair.

"You look confused," Jim said with a mocking pout, 'I bet you'd like to know where you are, and why you are here."

"I wouldn't protest to having that information," Sherlock said.

"Where you are, is one of my homes," Jim said. He had nestled himself, comfortably straddling Sherlock's lap, "And why do you think you are here?"

Sherlock could think of only a few likely reasons for his sudden abduction. He sighed.

'You're going to kill me," he said.

"Clever boy," Jim said as he untied Sherlock's scarf. He could feel Sherlock's tensing as the simple garment was removed. Jim chuckled. "Are you frightened, _Virgin_?"

Sherlock's face turned slightly pink and he leaned back a little away from his captor. Jim loved it. He ran the back of his fingers over that gorgeously sharp jawline.

"Let me here you say it," Jim whispered right up against his ear, "I want to see the terror in your eyes."

"I am not afraid of you," Sherlock denied, stiffening up and straightening his back, "If you're going to kill me, then do it."

"What's your rush?" Jim said. He knew Sherlock was immensely uncomfortable, and he was ever so enjoying teasing the detective.

"I'm not rushed, it was a suggestion to you," Sherlock said, trying to keep his cool, "The longer you drag this out, the more likely it will be for me to find a solution to my dilemma, so if you really wanted to kill me, you would have done so by now, but since you have not, it is my understanding that that is not your intention, no you're intention is something more sinister, more evil, in which you will drag out the torture of your choice."

Jim laughed. Sherlock's rate of speech always increased when he was on a roll of discoveries, it was something that Jim actually loved listening to.

"You are the clever one," he said. The consulting criminal indulged in playing with Sherlock's beautiful curly locks of hair.

"What do you want from me?" Sherlock asked.

"Want from you?" Jim was greatly enjoying the feel of Sherlock's hair in his fingers.

"You wouldn't have brought me here like this if you didn't want something from me. You would have killed me. You have the ability to do so. What do you want?" Sherlock was doing his best to remain straightforward and curt, despite the fact that Moriarty had more or less snuggled up onto his lap and was caressing him in ways that made him very uncomfortable.

"Right," Jim stood up, "I'm afraid your mistaken my cute little virgin. I am going to kill you, but I wanted to tell you first, what's going to _after_ I kill you."

"After?" Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, like you said, the longer I keep you alive, the more likely it is you will escape, so while I'd like to keep you alive for this, if I want to kill you, I simply have to do it now." Jim smirked. He turned on five different monitors, each showing something different. Sherlock's eyes scanned over them. The first one was Molly Hooper, working late as usual. The second was Mycroft, working in his office. The third made him start to bristle when he saw Mrs. Hudson, making herself a cup of tea. By the time his eyes reached the fourth he was seething. He saw John reading a book next to their fireplace, but when he saw the last one, his heart almost stopped. He saw Mrs. Holmes, his mother, sleeping in her bed. He said nothing, and tried not to let his emotions display on his face. Moriarty was chuckling.

"Yes, I'm going to kill them; each one of the people you care about most," he smiled at Sherlock, "And I won't do it easily. No, I'll devise something clever, something 'sinister' as you say for each one. I'll make sure I take extra special care of your mummy."

"No." Sherlock said bluntly. He looked up, his blue eyes fiery with rage.

"What are you going to do about it?" Jim asked.

"I won't let you hurt them," Sherlock said. He cared enough about Molly and Mycroft not to want to see them hurt, but Mrs. Hudson was like a second mother to him. John… John was his only real friend in the world. And his mother… He had always caused her trouble. He couldn't bear to think that he would be the cause of her death too.

"Then my question is, what are you prepared to do, to prevent their unfortunate demise?" Jim asked, leaning in close.

"Whatever I have to," Sherlock said bitingly. Jim smiled.

"That is exactly what I wanted to hear," the criminal said. He sat down on Sherlock's lap again and before Sherlock could say anything in retort he had kissed him. The detective struggled against his bonds, his mind panicking slightly.

"What's the matter Virgin?" Jim breathed softly against his skin, "I thought you said you would do anything, and you're getting flustered from just a kiss? Have you never kissed someone before?"

Sherlock's face was going from pink to red as attempted to avoid eye contact. A huge grin grew on Jim's face as he began to laugh.

"Oh my God, you haven't have you?" he laughed, "You really are innocent aren't you?"

"I've kissed people…" Sherlock mumbled.

"But not a real kiss was it?" Jim whispered, "Not like this…"

Jim slid his tongue into Sherlock's mouth and the young man squirmed in his seat, desperate to get away from this molestation. Jim kept it relatively brief.

"You know that I have a close eye on those you care about, so I can trust you won't be acting up right away," he said, taking his knife and cutting the rope that bound Sherlock to his chair, "I want you to text John and your brother, and tell them that you got a case in America and you had to leave immediately. You don't have time to explain."

"You think they'll buy that?" Sherlock asked, "Mycroft's not an idiot, and John knows I would take him with me."

Jim's jovial mood disappeared. He took Sherlock's phone to text it himself:

"Got a case in America. Could be the best of my career. Have to leave immediately. –SH"

He sent the text and they both waited, staring at the phone. Mycroft replied first.

"Call me with details if you get the time.–MH"

Moriarty texted back, "I don't need you keeping an eye on me. – SH"

John's was a little delayed but came a few minutes after.

"Are you sure you don't want me to come with you? I could be at the airport in 20 minutes."

"No, I have to do this alone. –SH" Moriarty texted.

"There, I think that should buy me some time," Jim said, "Wouldn't you say so?"


	2. Chapter 2

WARNING WARNING WARNING WARNING WARNING

GRAPHIC MATERIAL! NOT FOR CHILDREN

* * *

Despite all the bickering that Sherlock and Mycroft did, they both knew two things: Mycroft truly cared about his brother, and secretly, deep down, Sherlock was appreciative that his brother watched out for him. Sherlock hadn't given any specifics; no city, state or client name, and this concerned Mycroft considerably. His first thought was to contact John. He stopped at Baker Street, hoping his brother hadn't left yet. He saw lights on and headed upstairs to find John, alone, reading a book. He frowned and looked puzzled.

"Where's Sherlock?" he asked. John looked up from his book, startled to see Mycroft there. The man was so quiet.

"I got a text saying he had a case in America," John said.

"And you aren't accompanying him?" Mycroft asked.

"He said it was something he had to do alone," John said, "You sound concerned? Should I be concerned? What, exactly is going on?"

"I wish I knew," Mycroft said softly, "I've checked all the airports and Sherlock Holmes has not boarded any planes today, or purchased any tickets to do so, which means he is still in England, but someone doesn't want us to think so."

"Someone?" John looked confused, "Not him?"

'It might be him," Mycroft said, "But I wouldn't count on it. Keep your eyes and ears open. I'll be in touch."

* * *

Jim was enjoying making Sherlock squirm. Now that he knew that Sherlock was completely a virgin, as he had suspected, he couldn't wait to play with him. Sherlock was sitting in his seat, looking rather defeated as Jim made himself comfortable in the detective's lap.

"What do you intend for me to do?" Sherlock asked. Jim pouted.

"Come now, it wouldn't be half as fun if I told you everything, now would it?" the criminal asked, "You're a clever boy, what am I going to do with you?"

Sherlock closed his eyes and reviewed what had happened thus far. He had been drugged, tied, molested, threatened and kissed. The word that stood out in his mind the most was _Virgin_. As the word scrolled past the view screen of his mind Sherlock jumped out of his chair, knocking Jim to the floor in the process. He looked at Jim like a frightened animal. Jim winced when he hit the floor. He scowled, getting up and dusting off.

"I wasn't expecting such a reaction," he said, walking over to Sherlock who stepped back with every step the smaller man made, "I can't say I'm disappointed though."

Sherlock was eventually backed against the wall. He felt cool fingers brush his hair back over his ear. Jim pressed up against him. Everything he had planned out, just so he could keep Sherlock as a pet. If he played his cards just right, Sherlock would be his pet for a very long time, and maybe if he was really lucky, he could add John to his collection as well. He wasn't as attracted to John, but the military man had his own charm, and he'd make the perfect incentive for his favorite to behave.

"Aww… you look so scared, _Virgin_," Jim said softly. He could see how that word was affecting him, "Are you afraid of sex?"

"I'm not afraid of sex, I'm…" Sherlock started strong, but his voice sort of trailed off.

"Oh… so maybe you're more afraid of me," Jim whispered, "Is that it?"

Sherlock looked away. He hissed when he felt Jim's tongue on his neck. His face flushed and his hands grabbed the smaller man's shoulders. Sherlock's mind was fighting with itself. On one hand was his self-preservation, but if he pushed him away he was endangering the few people in this world he actually gave a damn about. He felt teeth and gave a little mewl of protest.

"Don't be so afraid," Jim mumbled against Sherlock's skin, "I don't like my toys broken."

"I'm not your ahh…" Sherlock angrily began but it turned into a little half-surprised moan as Jim bit his ear. Jim began to work Sherlock's shirt open. His fingers ran over Sherlock's slender body. He groaned slightly at his self-indulgence. He couldn't believe no one had ever been with this body. That was a worse crime than anything he had ever done.

"Relax…" Jim whispered as he slid Sherlock's shirt off, leaving his chest fully exposed. Sherlock was shaking. His body was betraying him. His lower lip was trembling and his breathing quivered. Jim couldn't help but find it adorable. He pulled Sherlock over to his couch and made him sit.

"Hush…" he ran his fingers through Sherlock's curly locks. He almost felt bad for terrifying him like this. He was so purely innocent.

Sherlock was trying to find a quiet place in his mind to which he could retreat, but every part of his mind was saying the same thing, "I'm going to be raped." He couldn't escape it. Moriarty was working on getting his pants off. Sherlock's body was betraying him more than he thought. He felt the immediate release of pressure when Jim pulled his pants off. Jim was smirking at him and Sherlock felt mortified.

"Maybe you're not as afraid as I thought…" Jim said, "Get up. I want you to put your hands on the back of the couch."

Sherlock looked angry, but a quick glance at the monitors that were still playing and he sighed and did as he was told. He felt exposed, worse than the time he had almost walked naked through Buckingham palace. Jim had been planning on this all along, so he had everything he needed ready to go. He took some lubricant and poured it onto his fingers generously. Sherlock felt Moriarty's middle finger begin to circle his anus. The detective bit his lower lip hard. He was truly afraid. He felt soft kisses on his back.

"Relax…" Jim said slowly, still circling his finger around Sherlock's tight hole, "You need to relax. I just got you, I don't want to break you yet."

Sherlock closed his eyes and thought of something else; something comforting to take away from the situation. It didn't help for very long. As soon as his muscles relaxed he felt the pressure as the finger was pushed inside him. His eyes snapped open and his knees buckled. He gripped onto the couch tightly. Jim felt the muscles tensing around his finger. He pressed through, feeling them slowly give way and let his finger inside. He heard Sherlock whimper slightly. His legs were shaking as he tried to remain standing.

"Such a good boy," Jim whispered. He kissed Sherlock's back as he moved his finger in and out at a slow and steady pace. Sherlock gave a tiny groan that Jim found delicious. When he pulled his fingers out Sherlock knew what was coming, but he still let out a cry as he felt the two fingers plunge inside of him. He was trembling. His cock was hard, which hadn't happened to him since he was a teenager.

Sherlock had never been much of a sexual being. He saw puberty as a chance to study the growth of his body. He had masturbated only once as an experiment and was extremely confused why his peers were obsessed with it. He had dropped any sexual activity that day and never bothered with it again.

"J-Jim…" Sherlock stuttered. He received a smart swat on his ass.

"I don't want you to call me that," Jim said sternly. Sherlock glanced back and looked confused.

"What sh-should I call you?" he asked. Jim smirked.

"I told you, it's no fun if I just give you all the answers," the criminal mastermind said. Sherlock thought. His thoughts traveled to Irene Adler and her work and a strange word passed his lips.

"Master…" Sherlock hated himself for saying it but Jim was delighted.

"Such a good boy!" he praised, pushing his fingers in particularly deep and curving them slightly. Sherlock gasped and his knees buckled again. Jim sidled up to Sherlock, his fingers still deep inside of him. With his free hand he tilted Sherlock's head up, leaned down and kissed him. Sherlock whimpered as his senses began to overload. He had such acute senses and so much was happening to his body. He could feel the fingers moving in and out of him, creating a sensation that was now less painful and more stimulating. He felt Jim's hot tongue slide into his mouth and swirl with his own tongue, trying to push past and go deeper as if to suffocate him. Jim's other hand was on the side of his face, his thumb running over his cheek, while his erection felt as though it were throbbing. He could feel his pulse in it.

Jim left him panting when he broke the kiss. Sherlock felt the fingers leave his body and gave a whimper that turned into a short scream as he felt three fingers push deep into his anus. The detective was trembling terribly. He felt something warm running down his leg.

"You're bleeding a bit," Jim said, "Don't worry, it's not real bad."

Sherlock bit his lip as the fingers kept plunging deep into his body. It hurt, and he knew it was going to get worse. When he felt the fingers leave his body again, his mind began to panic. Jim unzipped his pants and pulled his cock out. It was only half-hard despite his delight with how Sherlock was acting.

"Come here sexy," Jim said, watching Sherlock awkward come around the couch to where Jim was now sitting, "I want to see you use that beautiful mouth of yours."

Sherlock looked at him with incredulity. He didn't know if he could steel himself enough to do this. Jim used his remote to get a close up on John's face and for a few seconds a red dot appeared on his flat-mate's forehead. Sherlock got on his knees and took the cock in his mouth.

"I knew you'd make an excellent toy," Jim said, "You just need the proper motivation."

Sherlock growled in the back of his throat, but Jim paid him no mind. The consulting criminal's eyes watched Sherlock intensely for several minutes as he sucked him. He touched the detective's chin and lifted his head.

"That's enough," he told him. Sherlock didn't like where this was going.

"Since you don't know what you're doing, I'll make it easy for you," Jim said, pushing Sherlock back on the couch. Sherlock's erection twitched slightly as he stared up at his captor. Jim lifted one of Sherlock's legs and had him let it hang over the back of the couch. The smaller man positioned himself carefully before he pushed into Sherlock slowly. The detective hissed in pain as he felt his rectum stretching. Jim went in slowly, entranced by the expression on Sherlock's face. There were tears in those gorgeous blue-green eyes. When they spilled down his cheeks Jim reached up and brushed them away with the pad of his thumb.

"The worst part is over," he told him softly. When Sherlock felt him move he moaned. The actual act didn't hurt like he had predicted it would. With the initial pain gone it was stimulating and pleasurable. He hated himself for liking it.

"Ah… Ah J..nn.. Master.." Sherlock remembered what he was supposed to say.

"Look at you…" Jim whispered, "What would that doctor say if he saw you like this? Just look at you…"

Jim loved it. Sherlock was so innocent when it came to these matters he knew that he could mess with his psyche. Sherlock had been denying himself for years it seemed, but now he seemed to be thoroughly enjoying himself.

"I'm gonna die… I'm gonna die!" Sherlock cried, pulling at his own curly locks. Jim leaned over him and kissed him as he continued his steady thrusting. He reached between them, jerking Sherlock's cock. The detective let out a scream as he very suddenly came. His body was shaking and he looked panicked and scared.

"Aren't you ashamed of yourself, Sherlock Holmes?" Moriarty said, shaking his head as if he disapproved. Playing with Sherlock was going to be more fun than he had thought.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Thank you for adding this story to your watchlist. And thank you so much for the comments and reviews. Keep your eyes open for a new Sherlock story I intend to write. It will be a humorous one and should be a lot of fun.

* * *

Jim found himself thinking that this was all just too easy. Sherlock was so easy to manipulate. It had only been a week and his precious virgin was a perfect little fuck toy. It was so easy! All he had to do was pull up a monitor of John, or Mrs. Hudson, or if Sherlock was being particularly difficult his mummy dearest, and the detective would become perfectly obedient. He could hardly get Sherlock to be rambunctious anymore, which was… well, boring. And if Jim was bored, he knew that Sherlock was bored too. The novel of discovering his sexuality was through and Jim was sure Sherlock was bored with it. The consulting criminal walked into his living room. Sherlock was asleep on the couch, wrapped up in his signature coat. Jim sat down on the arm of the couch and lightly played with Sherlock's curly hair. As soon as he was touched, Sherlock woke up, looking at Jim. He sat up. He wasn't wearing anything underneath his coat. Jim wouldn't give him his clothes, he liked seeing Sherlock's body.

"Come here sexy," Jim said, his fingers trailing down Sherlock's sharp jawline to tilt his chin up. Sherlock leaned in and was rewarded with a kiss. Kisses felt nice, and Sherlock had learned to really enjoy them. Jim smiled against Sherlock's lips. His perfect little pet was so cute with his long coat hanging messily on his body.

"Mmm… you are my favorite little toy," Jim mumbled as his kiss moved onto the detective's neck but Sherlock moved away and looked up at him with a peculiar expression. Jim frowned. Looking at Sherlock he ran his thumb over the detective's cheek.

"What's with the face?" he asked. Sherlock shrunk back.

"What am I to you?" he asked. The words clicked in Jim's brain instantly. Oh, it was just too precious; too adorable; and so, so too easy.

"You want to know the truth?" Jim asked, a slight smirk on his lips. He blinked when Sherlock's lips collided with his in a desperate kiss.

"No," he said, breathlessly "I want you to lie to me."

Jim gave a soft groan when he felt Sherlock nip on his ear. His hand came around the detective's waist.

"Tell me I'm special to you," Sherlock whispered, licking his ear and giving it another bite. Jim shivered. This was… unexpected to say the least. But it was still too easy. Sherlock had bonded to him. He was his first lover. Everything that Sherlock knew about love and sex he had learned from becoming Moriarty's sex slave. To Sherlock, this was how it was supposed to be. Even though Sherlock was smarter than that, Jim had cracked down on the one area in which he was so ignorant, so _innocent._

Jim had fucked with Sherlock's mind so much over the past week. His common catchphrases were "Aren't you ashamed of yourself?" and "They aren't coming for you. They don't care." This constant barrage of lies, coupled with the assault on his body and the fact that Jim had a way about him that was extremely persuasive… well, even a mind as great as Sherlock Holmes' couldn't hold out for long.

Jim kissed Sherlock, pushing a considerable amount of affection into his actions. It was too perfect. Sherlock was like a lost puppy that needed him. He had to nurture that bond, just right, and Sherlock would do anything he said. Jim's hand was on Sherlock's hip and he frowned slightly. Sherlock was losing weight, a considerable amount that he could feel the difference when he touched the man. He knew Sherlock's eating habits were not normal, but now that he thought about it, Sherlock never joined him for meals, had never asked for anything to eat in the entire week that he had been at his home. Jim pulled away rather suddenly. He stood up and grabbed Sherlock's wrist, pulling him along behind him. He dragged him into a room that was Sherlock's to go into when Jim didn't need him and grabbed some clothes.

"Get dressed," he told him sternly and closed the door behind him, leaving Sherlock holding the clothes and standing in the room, looking utterly confused. He had missed something. A train of thought had gone through Jim's mind and he had somehow missed it because he didn't understand at all why Jim was suddenly cross and commanding him to get dressed. Sherlock took his long coat off. It really needed to be washed. He set it aside and pulled on his trousers and a dress shirt. He pulled on socks and shoes and sort of felt more like himself. He looked at himself in the mirror. He didn't look well. His face looked sort of hollow.

"Are you dressed?" Jim asked from outside of the room. Sherlock didn't know why Jim cared when the man had him walking around his home completely nude for almost a week.

"Yes," Sherlock answered, turning towards the door. Jim opened it. Sherlock saw conflicting emotions on his face. There was guilt and shame there, but Sherlock never took anything about Jim at face value anymore. He couldn't read Jim like he could other people. In order to read Jim Moriarty he had to read between the lines.

"You're having dinner with me," Jim said, "In the dining hall."

Sherlock opened his mouth to protest, but Jim held up his hand.

"You will not refuse," he said, very sternly, "It has just come to my attention that you haven't eaten anything apart from the occasional biscuit since you've arrived here. You are going to eat a full meal with me or I will lock you, alone in the room for the next three days."

Sherlock saw concern, was it real though? He wasn't sure, but he nodded his head.

"Good," Jim said, "Dinner will be ready soon. Come along."

Like an obedient pet, Sherlock followed him. He almost felt odd to have clothes on again. Old tensions were rising up when he looked at Jim. Jim led him to the dining hall and made him sit in the chair opposite to him. A plate of food was brought out for each of them. Sherlock peered at the food suspiciously. It was salmon, cooked lean but with a sweet citrus glaze. There were potatoes off to the side. Sherlock picked at the food. It was his natural habit. Sherlock had never been much of an eater. Jim watched him closely, making sure that he was actually eating and not just playing with his food like a child.

"Sherlock, eat your food," Jim half shouted at him, making Sherlock jump slightly. He chewed the salmon and finished the piece of fish. The potatoes had been mostly played with.

"Are we finished?" Sherlock asked, his luminous blue eyes looking up at Jim.

"If you want to be," Jim said, "You may go. Wait for me in the bedroom."

"Yes, Master," Sherlock said. He stood and went to the bedroom that he shared with Jim. It shouldn't have mattered to him if Jim had other people. It shouldn't have. He shouldn't have cared. He knew he was being used and Jim was manipulating his mind, but he couldn't escape it. He couldn't escape this strange desire to be important to his captor. His brain said what he would not allow his lips to say, _I love him_. What an erroneous statement! Sherlock Holmes knew that he certainly did not love Jim Moriarty. Jim Moriarty who was threatening those dearest to him. Jim Moriarty who had raped him repeatedly. Jim Moriarty who was keeping him here against his will. How could he feel anything but hatred? Jim entered the room and Sherlock's heart fluttered. He averted his eyes to the floor.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: I have a bad tendency to accidentally write "Mycroft" instead of "Moriarty," or vice versus. If you notice, please be kind enough to point it out to me so I may fix it. Also, after finally watching the last episode of season 2, I find myself wanting to do many Sherlock roleplays. If anyone is interested, send me a message.

* * *

Jim could read Sherlock in an instant. It was too adorable. The high and mighty consulting detective was falling in love with him. Against his own will no less. He could see the struggle in every movement Sherlock made. He saw it in the way his blue eyes shot up as soon as he heard the door, and the way he quickly averted them. He could see Sherlock's pupils dilate as he drew closer. He could see his body tense with desire and fear. He could hear his breathing quicken, from anticipation and anxiety.

"You are too precious…" the criminal said as he closed the door behind him. His steps were purposeful as he drew nearer, each one making a definitive tap against the marble floor. Without even realizing it Sherlock's hand's moved up to the top button of his shirt, but Jim swatted his hand away. Sherlock shivered as he was pushed back onto the soft bed. The overly fluffy blankets might a slight poof when he was pushed back. Jim was leaning over him, looking down at his face. He ran his fingers through Sherlock's curly locks. His knee found its home between Sherlock's thighs, rubbing slightly as he leaned up and kissed his toy deeply. Sherlock gave a slight groan. Kisses were rewards. Kisses meant that Jim was pleased.

The consulting criminal left little bites down Sherlock's neck. He moved down and at the first button he snapped it off between his teeth with ease. Sherlock's breath hitched slightly, his eyes watching Jim's every move.

"Admit it Sherlock…" Jim whispered. He snapped another button, letting it roll off of his tongue, "You're falling for me. You can't help yourself. You love this."

"No…" Sherlock gave a little whine, shaking his head, his face looking somewhat distraught as he was faced with the very real truth of the situation.

"Come on, just admit it…" Jim said softly. He snapped another button off, "For me… just say yes…"

Sherlock shook his head desperately, some tears starting to form in those beautiful eyes. Jim pouted up at him. He reached up and brushed the tears away. If Jim was honest with himself… he was becoming rather attached to Sherlock. Hearing him cry out in the throes of passion, he didn't think he could imagine anything sexier. Jim snapped another button. The shirt was half open now. Jim assaulted the exposed skin, licking and biting, and being rewarded with sweet moans.

"Say yes…" Jim breathed across his skin, "For me… say yes… come on…"

Sherlock struggled. So many conflicting thoughts and feelings, and he couldn't think straight when Jim did these things to him.

"You know it's true," Jim mumbled. He let his tongue drag downward until it met the next button. Jim kissed the last bit of exposed skin before he snapped the next button off. He felt Sherlock's breath hitch.

"Come on Sherlock… I know you like to please me…" Jim whispered, "I can see it in the way you act. You've already given in, so why not voice it?"

"I… n-no… I haven't given in…" Sherlock struggled with himself, and yet despite all his mental struggling he didn't try to push Jim away. Jim was free to playfully remove his clothes and torment his body.

"Oh, but you have," Jim said as he snapped off another button with his teeth. There was only one more and Jim decided to waste no time. He snipped it off with his teeth and pushed Sherlock's shirt open, displaying his gorgeous body in all its splendor.

"It's absolutely terrible," Jim said, his fingers tracing muscle lines on Sherlock's body, "That you were so untouched when I brought you here."

Sherlock suddenly snapped, "I was a virgin, I wasn't untouched."

Jim's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"So my innocent little toy wasn't completely innocent hmm?" he pried carefully, "Tell me."

Jim nuzzled Sherlock's chest, placing kisses. Sherlock's face was going red and he shook his head.

"Come on, you have to tell me…" Jim pressed. He gave Sherlock's navel a sharp bite, making him jump.

"Ah! Mycroft!" he gasped sharply. Again Jim's eyebrows shot up. For some odd reason, he was filled with a desire to utterly annihilate the elder Holmes, or at the very least, fill him with absolute guilt for his actions. He knew just what he was going to do, but for the moment, his consulting detective needed him. Moriarty worked on getting Sherlock's pants off. Sherlock was already hard. He squirmed a little.

"You still won't admit it, will you?" Jim asked. Sherlock gave a soft whimper.

"Just one little word," Jim said, "I take care of you, don't I?"

Sherlock was panting softly. He could feel Jim reaching between his legs, beginning to finger his ass. He gave a loud groan as he felt those fingers press into him. Sherlock bit his lower lip, staring up at Moriarty. When Moriarty lifted his legs and began to fuck him he couldn't hold in the sounds that bubbled up from inside of him. His face was red. He really was ashamed of himself. How could he let this man control him so? Jim leaned down and kissed Sherlock affectionately. Sherlock always responded well to kisses.

"You rest," he said, "I'll only be a few minutes."

* * *

A package arrived for Mycroft Holmes, no return address, and a local postage mark, it had obviously been sent from a public mailbox. That in and of itself was enough to make the elder Holmes brother slightly suspicious, and he cautiously opened the envelope. There was a disc inside. Nothing was written on it, there was no note. It was a DVD so Mycroft put it into his DVD player. He figured that even if it was virus-laden, it could hardly do much to a DVD player.

Mycroft's face was slightly red. It was like a horrible car crash; terrible to watch and yet he couldn't tear his eyes away. His little brother was trembling, moaning and begging. He could see tears rolling down Sherlock's cheeks. He couldn't watch the entire video, but he watched long enough to hear Sherlock cry out a very familiar name.

"J-John…" the detective trembled in the video.

"Stop saying his name!" Moriarty growled. Sherlock was half-sobbing.

"J-John… please… help me…" the detective cried. He was struck harshly in the face. Mycroft turned it off. He couldn't watch anymore. He couldn't bear it. Mycroft was trembling a little bit as he sat in his chair. He picked up his phone.

"John, there's something you need to see."


	5. Chapter 5

Mycroft looked at John who as usual was picked up in a car. John Watson always recognized the black car, and had given up any protest when it came to Mycroft Holmes.

"Alright, what is it I need to see?" John asked, "Does it have to do with Sherlock's American case?"

"You could say that," Mycroft replied. He took a deep breath. Even John noticed that Mycroft wasn't himself. He was upset over something. The elder Holmes looked at John again, trying to find the right words to explain.

"I don't want to show you this," Mycroft said, "But your name is said several times… I can only hope you will see something that I cannot. You and Sherlock were very close after all."

Mycroft handed John the disc and the remote and headed to the door.

"Aren't you staying?" John asked.

"I can't…" Mycroft said, with more sadness than John had ever seen on the man's face. John was extremely apprehensive. Whatever was on this disc was powerful enough to make Mycroft Holmes display emotions. He put it into the DVD player and hit play.

John saw Sherlock and his heart leapt slightly at seeing his friend unharmed, but that didn't last long. He saw the torment and he heard him cry out his name. After the first time he heard his name, he turned it off. He was shaking and sweating and felt rather ill.

"Mycroft!" John said, barely able to walk straight, "Mycroft!"

Mycroft stepped inside again and helped John regain his balance.

"Is he in America?" John asked, "Or is he in England?"

"He is almost certainly still here in England. I checked every way he could have left the country," Mycroft said, "I assumed he needed to be discreet for a new case. I was concerned, but I couldn't have imagined…"

"I'm going to find him," John said, "If I have to tear through every bloody house in England, I will find him."

"I'm sorry for subjecting you to that John," Mycroft said, "How much did you watch?"

"Not… not much… I couldn't…" John said shakily.

"Neither could I," Mycroft said, "I know it's hard, but if Sherlock had any idea he was being filmed, he would be dropping clues. And since he cried your name… I have to assume they are clues for your eyes."

"I understand," John said. He took the disc out. He knew what he had to do. He had to make himself watch it. All the way through, as many times as it took, he'd decipher anything that Sherlock might have hidden in the video. And even if Sherlock had been unable to hide anything, he'd watch it and look for any clues that he could. He had to find some way of narrowing down the possibilities of where Sherlock could be. He'd do whatever it took.

* * *

Every day that Sherlock was well-behaved his leash was extended a little bit. Jim decided to give him free reign over the library. Especially now that work was catching up with him, Jim didn't want Sherlock to be horrendously bored.

"There's a chem lab just through that door too, so you can mess around with that if you want," the criminal mastermind said, "Just don't blow the room up ok?"

Jim gave his pet a kiss on the cheek and left him to explore the books and the stock of the chemistry lab.

Sherlock wasted no time. Jim was a vain person, and there were books about him in the library. Sherlock sought out everyone, some of them were even journals that the man had kept himself which Sherlock devoured. Anything he could read to give him a little more edge. He had grown complacent in this setting. He had to or his body would have been torn apart. His mind was going, he could literally feel it, but if he let Moriarty believe he was scheming, the man would lock him away in his room and he'd never have a chance of escape.

His only chance was to kill Jim. If Jim was dead his friends and family would be safe. That was his only chance. But he had to be careful about it. It had to be quick. He didn't know how Jim would signal the death of his mother, but it could be something as simple as a button press. There had to be almost no struggling, but it also had to be silent and clean. A slow acting poison might do the trick. Something he could slip into his food or drink at supper. It would work through his system slowly, making him sleepy and kill him sometime during the night while he slept. Sherlock liked this idea. He didn't like the idea of violently killing Jim. In fact… the thought of killing Jim at all… was kind of upsetting him.

Sherlock shook his head and continued to devour books and journals about his master. He went into the chemistry lab and was about to start working on the poison when his eyes fell on a pack of cigarettes and some matches, just sitting there on the lab table. Sherlock hadn't had any nicotine in over a week now and he suddenly realized how much he wanted it. But they were sitting in a chemistry lab so he examined them carefully for anything unsavory, but as soon as he was certain they were safe he lit one up and had a good long smoke in the chemistry lab, forgetting all about his design to create a poison for Moriarty.

Jim came home late and found Sherlock curled up with an advanced chemistry text book and clutching the pack of cigarettes he had left for him. He was dozing slightly in one of the comfortable chairs in the library. Jim smiled. He pushed Sherlock's curly locks back away from his face, waking him up.

"Were you good while I was away?" Jim asked, "I see you found my present."

Sherlock sat up and kissed Jim strongly, grabbing him by his tie to pull him in. Jim lost his balance and found himself straddling Sherlock awkwardly as they kissed. Sherlock felt amazing. The nicotine in his system had been such a pleasure and he wanted Jim now. It was perfectly obvious to both of them; Sherlock had fallen for his other half. They were alike; two sides of one coin. Sherlock knew he wasn't going to be able to kill Jim. He was going to be stuck here. His fingers grabbed desperately at Jim's short black hair.

"Mmm… Sherlock… this isn't like you," Jim commented as he caught his breath a bit, "Did something happen while I was out?"

Sherlock looked up at him. Jim's dark eyes looked right back at him. Sherlock shook his head a bit, bringing his cute pet act to the forefront.

"I missed you," he said, nuzzling under Jim's neck.

"Were you bored?" Jim asked.

"Yes…" Sherlock admitted. Even if with all the reading, and then his smoking, he was so bored. "I get really bored."

"I know you do honey," Jim said as he kissed under Sherlock's ear.

* * *

John had spent the entire day, watching the video over and over and over again. He was desensitized to the material. The only part that still upset him the most was at the very end Jim Moriarty revealed what Sherlock had said about Mycroft. It filled John with rage every time he heard it. But it was Moriarty. He couldn't be sure it was true. What did hold true was what was happening to Sherlock in the video. Now that he wasn't utterly appalled by what was happening he could really focus and search for clues.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Short chapter, I'm dragging it out, I know. This story will probably only have a few more chapters.

* * *

Sherlock woke up, half-sprawled over Jim. His head was lying on the consulting criminal's chest. He woke up to the gentle feeling of fingers running through his dark hair. He looked up to see Jim, his eyes still closed, just petting Sherlock's hair, humming softly as he did. Sherlock scooted up and kissed Jim's lips lightly. Jim opened his dark eyes and smiled.

"Good morning beautiful," the villain said softly, his fingers running through Sherlock's curls once more.

"What happened?" Sherlock asked. His memory was a little fuzzy. "Did you drug me?"

"Well, baby, you were up until 6AM pacing the floorboards so I just gave you a little something to help you sleep," Jim said. He rolled onto his side, looking at Sherlock. "Are you mad?"

Sherlock was sitting upright and staring at Jim. He remembered now, pacing the floor, back and forth and looking at Jim. Thinking, and debating with himself. _Jim is evil, but he is so interesting. Jim's a killer, but he can be so gentle. Jim doesn't really care about me… or does he?_

Sherlock turned his attention fully to the present. _Baby_? Had he just called him _baby_? And then the question at the end. "_Are you mad?_" Why would he care? The first three days Sherlock had been there Jim did little else than physically, sexually and mentally abuse him. By rights, Sherlock should be enraged by the entire situation he was in. He was being blackmailed. All the people who were closest to him were being watched; could be killed at any moment if he didn't do as he was told.

But he wasn't angry… He was grateful that Jim had slipped him the light sedative. He'd still be pacing about if he hadn't.

"Sherlock?" Jim reached up and caressed his face. The detective leaned into the touch.

"No, I'm not mad," he whispered. Jim smiled at him.

"Tea time then? We've slept well past breakfast," Moriarty said.

"I'm not very hungry…" Sherlock said in a small voice. He saw Jim's eyes harden a bit.

"We've talked about this…" the smaller man said, "What did I say?"

"I need to eat more or I'm going to waste away…" Sherlock mumbled, like a reprimanded child, "I'm not exactly active anymore though. You're going to make me eat and I'll gain weight and just get fat."

Sherlock was pouting. He crossed his arms over his chest. Jim leaned in close, his arms wrapping around his adorable pet.

"Would you like to be more active?" he whispered. Sherlock blinked.

"What?" he looked a little confused.

"You could work with me…" Jim whispered in his ear, giving the lobe a little bite, "Creating problems that Scotland Yard's finest could never solve. We could stump your big brother too. Wouldn't that be fun?"

Jim nibbled on Sherlock's neck. The consulting detective stiffened a little. Jim felt it. He already knew the answer.

"I can't do that…" Sherlock said. Jim turned Sherlock's face to look at him.

"Why? Do you hold some kind of conviction?" he asked, "You don't care about Scotland Yard. They're all a bunch of morons. Oh, but it's not about them is it Sherlock? It's about John, isn't it?"

Jim watched Sherlock's pupils dilate at the mention of his former flat mate.

"It is, isn't it? John's the thing that keeping you tied to your old life. You're happy here. You like it! And do you think I haven't noticed your little moral dilemma? Did you think, in my own home that I wouldn't notice that you were planning on poisoning me Sherlock?"

Sherlock whimpered and almost cowered as Jim's voice grew louder and angrier with each sentence.

"I'm sorry!" Sherlock said. Conflicts were racing in his mind and he felt like he was going insane. He covered his ears and hid his head.

"Stay here if you want," Jim yelled, shoving Sherlock off the bed, "Go ahead and starve for all I care."

The powerful man got up and stormed out of the bedroom, leaving Sherlock in a mess of blankets on the marble floor.

* * *

John knew he was so close to a breakthrough. He'd analyzed everything. Everything he could; the floor, the blankets, the pillows, occasionally he got a little peek outside a window. Any sounds that he heard other than Sherlock and Jim, he noted. He had been putting off analyzing Sherlock. He knew that the biggest clues were going to come from the detective, but it stabbed him in the gut to watch him like that. He started the video for what probably was the 20th time, though it felt like the 50th. John watched Sherlock. He listened to every word and sound coming out of Sherlock's mouth, ignoring anything else. He had to watch it all the way through, but the answer was suddenly blatantly obvious. He couldn't believe it. Sherlock was so ridiculously clever! He had snuck Morse code letters into his actions and sounds. It was a bit jumbled, since Moriarty had cut and put pieces of video together, but he had a nice string of letters to decode into what would hopefully lead him to Sherlock.


	7. Chapter 7

It was late evening when Jim went back to the bedroom. Sherlock had made the bed and was lying across it, his arms outstretched and his head upside down off the edge. Jim instantly noted the mark on the back of Sherlock's arm. The detective had found his stash. Jim sat down on the bed beside him.

"How much did you use?" Jim asked, getting right to the point. Sherlock did not move from his position.

"Not much…" he replied, "Just enough to stimulate. About a 30% mixture."

Jim gave a slight sigh of relief. He pulled Sherlock up into a sitting position and kissed him softly. The detective mewled, his arms wrapping around the powerful man.

"You should ask next time," Jim said, "I don't want you using too much."

"Yes, Master," Sherlock breathed. Jim smiled. He kissed Sherlock again, more affectionately. He heard the doorbell ring repeatedly.

"What the devil?" Jim grew annoyed. He got up to answer his door.

John Watson was at the door. He had spent the entire day unscrambling letters and numbers and had been to every other possible address on this street that it could be. This one had to be it. When Jim opened the door John's eyes got dark and he all but attacked him.

"Where's Sherlock you bastard?!" the army doctor shouted, knocking Jim to the floor. Jim looked a little startled, but he smiled.

"Sherlock, you're boyfriend's here! Would you come out here please honey?" Jim called. He looked up at John. "Would you mind getting off of me? Or would you like to play 'doctor?'"

John got flustered and got off of Moriarty. He saw Sherlock enter the room, shirt a bit disheveled. He looked a little out of it.

"John?" Sherlock looked at him like he was confused.

"We were about to sit down for supper. Why don't you join us Dr. Watson?" Jim asked as he got up and dusted himself off.

"Like hell! I'm here for Sherlock!" John said.

"Sherlock doesn't want to leave, do you honey?" Jim asked, his arms wrapping around the taller man. A red dot appeared on John's forehead and Sherlock's body stiffened.

"Master… please…" he said under his breath.

"Why don't you show Johnny boy what you're really like?" Jim asked softly. He raised an eyebrow. John already looked shocked and appalled.

"Or shall we go into the dining room for supper?" Jim asked.

"Supper sounds good!" John piped up.

"So you will be joining us then Johnny?" Jim grinned, walking with Sherlock and John to his dining room. Food was set out on the table and John watched in amazement as Sherlock, without being prompted or anything began to eat what was on his plate.

"Isn't he adorable?" Jim asked John, "And so well behaved now."

Sherlock prickled slightly.

"You're the only thing that really seems to hold him back," Jim said, his hands on John's shoulders, "Maybe I should just remove you."

Jim slipped a knife and held it to John's throat. Sherlock began to stand up.

"No." he said.

"No?" Jim looked at him with a smirk.

"Please…" Sherlock swallowed his pride, "Master… please… I'll be good. Anything you want. Please don't hurt him.."

John watched in horror as Sherlock got on his knees in front of Jim, his hand rubbing over Jim's crotch.

"Please…" Sherlock whispered, "For me? Please."

"For you?" Jim looked at him, "Sherlock, I do what I want and you have no sway over me."

Jim saw Sherlock's face fall slightly. He continued.

"Do you think I really care about you, Sherlock Holmes?" Jim asked with a laugh, "You're a toy. I could get a new one anywhere. Yes, you're my favorite, but all toys break eventually, or you grow out of them."

Sherlock looked really sad; really hurt by Jim's words.

"But I…" Sherlock began.

"You set yourself up for this," Jim said, "You were the one who _wanted_ to feel like you meant something. But there's the truth hun, you're nothing but my fuck toy."

John stood up, knocking his chair to the ground and managing to fling the knife out of Moriarty's hand. He'd heard enough. He'd watched and listened to Moriarty's abuse long enough. He glared at the man.

"Oh, did that upset you Johnny boy?" Jim asked, "Don't like thinking about the 'brilliant' Sherlock Holmes that way? Look at him? He doesn't look very brilliant right now does he?"

Sherlock looked very sad, but he made no movement to get up off his knees.

"You're pathetic," Jim said, "Go ahead and catch up with your precious John. You'll have plenty of time to do so. He's not going anywhere."

Jim left the room. Sherlock remained motionless for several minutes, then looked up at John.

"Are you disgusted with me, John?" he asked.

"Frankly, yes," John said.

"Good, because I am disgusted with you!" Sherlock said, getting up, "Are you a complete idiot John? Really? Do you know how hard it is to sneak Morse code past Jim Moriarty while having sex? And you have the audacity to show up here without any kind of back-up? Did you have any plan at all?"

John was shocked.

"Oh so now you're acting like yourself huh?" he asked angrily.

"Yes John, because I scrambled the camera," Sherlock grumbled, "We have about 10 minutes before someone notices the default. So if you have any plan, now is the time to share it."

"I… well I…" John mumbled.

"I can't believe you! After all that trouble I went through and you show up without back-up and without a plan!" Sherlock said in disbelief, "Welcome to hell because you won't be leaving here. We're both stuck here now. I can't take much more. My mind is dying John. You have no idea."

Sherlock began pacing and before he knew it he was kissing John strongly, much to the man's surprise. John pushed him away.

"What are you doing?!" he yelled.

"I'm sorry!" Sherlock said, "It's my libido. It's been hyper-charged."

"Why don't we just leave?" John asked.

"I can't… he'll get my mum, John… I can't let him get her…" Sherlock said.

Sherlock looked distraught, pacing and thinking, but it was no good, and soon the cameras were turned back on.

"I can't do this John… I can't…" Sherlock said.

"I'll kill him…" John said.

"No…" Sherlock said, "No… something else. Not that."


	8. Chapter 8

Sherlock was filled with such despair. He had dragged John into this mess, and the soldier had no plan. It was like a horrible nightmare. Jim now had John as immediate reinforcement for him to obey.

"John, I'm going crazy… I really think I am…" Sherlock said from his seat at the table. The detective was holding his head in his hands.

"It's ok Sherlock…" John said softly.

"No! It's not ok!" Sherlock said, "I am losing my MIND! Before I saw you I could barely remember a time before I was here. I thought that I was in love with him John!"

Sherlock no longer cared about the cameras. John had no plan, they had no hope of escape, and Jim had crushed the life out of his heart, what was the point in hiding anything anymore?

"Sherlock, what you're experiencing is very common," John said as calmly as possible.

"Oh, so it's common to fall in love with a psycho killer?" Sherlock asked.

"That's not what I meant," John said, placing a hand on Sherlock's shoulder, "I mean kidnapped people frequently fall in love with their kidnappers. It's not uncommon at all."

"Is my mind that weak John?" Sherlock asked, laying his head on the table miserably, "That in less than two weeks he completely overtook me?"

"Anybody would have gone crazy in this situation…" John said. Sherlock pulled John down by his collar and kissed him softly.

"You're very precious to me John… do you know that?" Sherlock asked softly. John's cheeks turned pink as Sherlock continued, "You are my very dearest friend. I'm sorry you got pulled into this…"

Sherlock stood up with a sigh. He looked rather resolute. He turned to look at John.

"Wait here… I'll only be a moment," he said, and disappeared down the hall. John was left alone in the dining hall. He suddenly felt very small in this enormous house. Sherlock seemed to think that everything was hopeless, but John couldn't believe that. Surely Mycroft would locate them eventually. He would send Scotland Yard and Jim would go to jail for kidnapping and rape. Everything would go back to normal.

Jim walked into the dining room, whistling some pop tune as he did. He looked at John and frowned.

"Where's Sherlock?" he asked, glancing around the room.

"This is your mansion, you tell me," John said, "He stepped out of the room. Said he'd only be a minute."

Sherlock appeared, leaning against the doorway to the dining room.

"I'm right here…" he said softly. Jim noticed the new puncture point on Sherlock's arm and got angry.

"Do make yourself comfortable, Johnny boy," he said, "We'll be right back."

Jim grabbed Sherlock by the wrist, dragging him to their bedroom.

"How much did you take?" the criminal asked angrily, "I just got done telling you to ask if you want to use my stash, and you go and use it anyway. Now how much did you take?"

"I didn't take any…" Sherlock said softly. His eyes were sort of glazed over as he looked at Jim.

'Don't lie to me you little fuck toy!" Jim backhanded him across the face, "I'm not blind! I can see where the needle went in!"

"I didn't take any of your drugs," Sherlock said. A red mark was across his face from Jim's blow.

"We'll see about that…" Jim said, going into his stash of recreational drugs. He looked through… He looked through them again and frowned. Sherlock got comfortable on the bed, lying back on the soft blankets while Jim searched through his drugs. Jim looked at the detective.

"You didn't take any…" he said, "Then what did you do?"

"I decided it wasn't really for you after all," Sherlock said, "That poison… it was better suited for me. I'm dying Master… Slowly, but I'm dying."

Jim's eyes widened slightly at the words that slipped past Sherlock's lips. He couldn't believe them. He wouldn't believe them. Sherlock had taken his own poison? He never would have expected it.

"Why?" was all Jim could manage to say.

"I can't live this way… I can't live without solving things. This complacency… it's been driving me mad…" Sherlock said softly. He let his blue eyes close. Jim stared at him in disbelief.

"Master… please… let John go… you don't particularly like him…please let him go. Just one favor for me…" Sherlock whispered softly.

Jim's face was a mixture of terror, horror and bitterness.

"Don't call me that…" the criminal said a bit shakily.

"But I always…"

"Say my name…"

"Jim…"

Tears suddenly stung Jim's eyes. He leaned over Sherlock and kissed him.

"Sherlock…" he whispered, "Don't do this?"

"I've already done it," Sherlock said, "It's too late for tears…"

"No!" Jim said angrily, but he broke down again, "I… I can't live this way… Even if you aren't mine… I don't want to be in a world where you don't exist."

"That's really corny," Sherlock said, "Just say you love me."

Jim kissed Sherlock again, holding onto him tightly. They kissed for several long minutes before Jim pulled away.

"Sherlock… look at me baby," he said, "I want you to hit me. Hit me as hard as you can, and I want you to leave with John. Get to a hospital."

Sherlock shook his head.

"I won't touch them," Jim said, "Please, do this for me… I can't sit here and watch you slowly die…"

Sherlock looked at him suspiciously.

"You'll really leave them alone?" he asked. Jim hooked his pinky with Sherlock's, linking them together for a few seconds.

"I promise…" he whispered. Sherlock took a deep breath and punched Jim as hard as he could and ran out to find John.

"We're leaving John," Sherlock said, "I need a hospital now, I'm dying a slow and relatively painless death. Quickly now! Don't dawdle." Sherlock jumped in a cab.

"St. Bartholomew's hospital. Make haste, I've got poison in my veins." Sherlock said.

The detective was unconscious before they arrived at St. Bartholomew's hospital. But the doctor assured John that they were doing all they could for Sherlock. All that they could do… just didn't seem to be enough for John. What if Sherlock never woke up? Or worse, what if he was a vegetable the rest of his life? There was no way of knowing. That was what terrified John the most.

Fin

Sequel is eminent.


End file.
